Amorphous
wip |-|Warning= text |-|I= Violet It hurt. It hurt and I wish I knew why. I stared into the matte black vastness of the coffin, reliving everything she'd done to me. Every bruise and scratch, every hurled insult fresh in my mind. I could remember with vivid clarity the time she chased me out of the house, screaming and screeching with fury. I could remember the time she threw me into the fireplace, laughing as I burnt. I could remember cold, long nights, where she would silently cry, and pray for an answer as to why she was given a devil in place of a child. My mother was gone now. Silenced were her insults, and her old bones had not the strength to bruise and batter me. I should feel relieved, glad even that she was dead. That I had no reason to be afraid of her ever again. I was crying. She hated, mocked, hurt me. But I grieved still. I couldn't help but feel so cold and broken and hollow. I felt she was right to do everything she did to me. Like I deserved it. “Devil-child.” Everything my mother did to me out of fear of what I could do to her. She was stronger than me, willing to hurt a child, and never hesitated to prove it. My eyes were sparkling now, and yet I felt strangely disengaged, peaceful even. There were tears, dripping, dripping and hitting the cold stone floor, but I wasn't crying anymore. This was no such sadness. Confusion? Grim contemplation? Despite everything, I never understood emotions well. I used to read stories when I was younger, about mothers and fathers and daughters that loved each other very much. They seemed so alien, so unimaginable to me. How could such relationships possibly exist in this world? I wondered why I couldn't have that, why my mother couldn't even bare to look at me. What made me different. Something clicked. “Devil-child,” I whispered out loud to the empty room. It was their fault, it was because of them. It was because of them no one dared to trust me, love me. It was because of them, that the other kids would sneer and jeer and glare, with terror bubbling just under the surface. They were why I was so alone. I could still hear the voices of those who scorned me, though they did not speak. Those hushed whispers of malice that buried themselves in my skull and never left to this day. The others knew what they meant. “Devil-child.” Without thinking, I began to pick at the corners of my eyes, slowly raking my talons along the smooth surface of my scales. “Devil-child.” I was clawing at them now, in almost desperate haste. They needed to be gone. No one could know about the curse anymore, the condemnation and hatred that was my birthright. I was tired of being alone, so tired. “Devil-child.” I was bleeding. Red tears, dripping, dripping and hitting the cold stone floor. It should of hurt, I should have been screaming as I tore at my face. But I wasn't. Because it didn't. I felt a twinge of what may have been joy. Joy! I couldn't believe it! Why hadn't I thought of this sooner? If they couldn't see what I really was, they couldn't hate what I really was. They didn't have to know. I was so close to being free. What would freedom feel like? I could swear I felt a smile forming at the corners of my mouth. I was so close now. So close to the world that had been denied to me. So close. So close. “Devil-child.” For a fleeting moment, my vision went black, the world . And the very next my paws were tightly clutching a pair smooth, blood-soaked scales, torn from the corners of my eyes. I cupped my paws together and saw them. My curse, the hatred and distrust promised to me from birth, torn from my flesh. In my palms flashed two sparkling scales, as silver as the moon. Dejection. The adrenaline was gone now, replaced with the cold, reaffirming realization of what I had done. This didn't change much, for my powers were still there. My powers could still hurt people, hurt me. Lashing out like that wouldn't change the fact that I had nobody. Nobody to hate or love me, for I was too afraid to request either. I sank to my knees in exhaustion and despondency, so cold and tired from that outburst. Still alone. Still alone. Still so, so alone. I was still disgusting, I was still an abomination. I was still born wrong, born cursed. But nobody had to know. |-|II= Claire “Any questions, class?” Ms. Star flashed us a caffeine-induced smile as she finished her lesson, and moved to turn off the projector. I could tell she was trying as hard as she could to make this fun for us, but I had been asleep for the entirety of that lesson. Sorry, but I'm hardly alone in that regard. I was still drowsy, my eyelids were feeling awfully heavy. I couldn't help but think of how nice it would be just not wake up and sleep through the rest of the day. I mean, it wasn't my fault that the room wasn't air-conditioned. I'm an IceWing for moons’ sake, I do not do well in forty degree weather. As I was yawning and blinking tears out of my eyes, I almost missed the strange NightWing dragoness who shyly stepped into the room. Ms. Star, who was either much more attentive than me or had received a notice about this beforehand, immediately began to introduce this newcomer, an enthusiastic grin stapled to her face. “Alright class!” She practically yelled, causing the NightWing to wince and half the class to violently wake up. “This is Violet, your new classmate. Due to personal circumstances, Violet is joining us a bit late this semester. Now, you all being you, I'm sure she is going to make many, many friends.” Ms. Star spoke with a calm and gentle smile, yet everyone in the class could hear the threatening undertone in her voice, loud and clear. “Now Violet,” she said, turning towards the NightWing, “Do you have anything you'd like to say about yourself.” The NightWing’s eyes darted across the room, as if she were looking for something. She scratched at the corners of her eyes uncontrollably for a second, cleared her throat with a small cough, and then spoke in a rather detached and monotone voice. “Hello.” Without a second word, Violet walked towards the empty desk besides me and took a seat. She glanced at me for a fraction of a second before turning towards Ms. Star, who had begun to write the homework on the board. I couldn't help but stare at the weird NightWing. She seemed so peculiar, eerie, mysterious up close, the kinds of things that got me curious. The white lines running down along her cheeks from the corners of her eyes weren't makeup as I initially thought, but hastily-applied bandages. They seemed all too recent. She wore a torn-up rain jacket that might of been yellow once, and the rest of her clothes were similarly old and filthy and cheap. Yet she could afford to come here. Her eyes were always obscured from me, as though the newcomer was doing everything in her power to avoid the gazes of everyone else, but I could still see something that looked a bit like sadness in her expression. Why? The bell rang a few moments later, and I had forgotten to jot down the homework. Before I knew it, everyone else was sprinting out of the room, pushing and shoving each other to escape the scorching heat. Violet stood up a few moments later after the crowd had dispersed, and gave Ms. Star a polite nod before making her way to the door. “Hey, Violet,” I blurted out. I had to stop my paw from instinctively covering my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud to her. She didn’t turn around to face me but stopped in her tracks nonetheless. It was hot out, but when she responded, an unexpected anger present in her voice, I felt chills down my spine. “What?” said Violet, her words strained and quivering. “If you ever need help with anything, I’ll be here,” I barely whispered, trembling at the NightWing’s outburst. She turned on her heels, in a sudden, graceful movement, to face me. Violet’s eyes, as it turns out, were a bright violet. Her former coldness was seemingly forgotten, and emotions clouded her face. Rage, fear, despair and hatred, all at once in the purple depths of her eyes and the contortions of her face. The NightWing was crying now. The detached nonchalance was gone, the anger as well, leaving something more genuine and meek. Her mouth twitched slightly as she spoke this time, in a quaking, soft tone that shattered the soul. “Please, don’t.. don't say that unless you mean it.” And with that, she turned again and walked out of the room. I waited a few moments before leaving as well. |-|III=